Memory
by NaniErin
Summary: If knowledge is power, how much are memories worth?  No pairings as of yet, rating is for possible later violence, no smut forseen at this time  Has been updated!
1. Unsettling

_Warning: This story is based off of characters, events and quite a number of places that belong to Mr. Whedon. I'm not making any money off of this, just playing with his toys for a bit. I promise to put everything back as I've found it as soon as I've finished... unless of course he'd like to let me keep them. (And special thanks to hulettwyo for your support and encouragement)_

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* * *

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This is very much not a good thing, the young man thought to himself. He wasn't really sure where he was or what was going on - hell, he wasn't even sure who he was, but he was definitely sure that industrial strength chains were not a good thing to be wearing... especially when they connected to someone's bathroom plumbing.

Also his head hurt - a lot.

Maybe if he sorted through what he did know he could piece together what all happened that landed him here. Or at the very least remember his sodding name.

Right, then. He was currently sitting in the bathtub of a respectable looking loo, dressed in a black tee shirt, black jeans and black boots.

He snorted to himself. Really, who wore boots in a bath? He did, apparently. Although, maybe not by choice. The shackles on his wrists and ankles pointed to a distinct lack of input on his current situation.

He gave an experimental tug on the chains, trying to get a feel for how strong they were. They seemed to be pretty solid, but maybe, if he pulled hard enough, he could pull the pipe they were wrapped round loose. He filed the thought away for later.

He couldn't hear anything going on outside of the bathroom. It certainly didn't sound like anyone else was here. He could smell something good, though... food of some sort. There were a lot of other smells he could pick up, too many to name them all, but the food overpowered everything else. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but the aroma hung in the air like expensive perfume.

He frowned at himself. Like expensive perfume? What was he, some poet wannabe?

He snorted and rolled his eyes at himself. That brought him to back to the beginning, though. Who was he and why was he chained up in a bathroom?

Could be any number of reasons, really. He might've wandered innocently into the home of some sadistic madman. Or, maybe he was the madman and one of his victims broke free and chained him up for the authorities to find. Or, maybe he was a slave of some sort, chained up in the bathroom as punishment for one thing or another.

He looked down at his clothes. He didn't really put off the right attitude to be a madman, he mused. His clothing might ought to be either more ragged or more refined. He was probably dressed too well to be a slave, either, but then he wasn't really sure what a slave would wear in this day and age. He might could be a victim, though, especially if he'd been caught recently, as his clothes and his limbs were all whole and intact. So far, anyway.

His stomach growled, startling him.

He shifted in the bath, trying to find a more comfortable position and avoid thoughts of what a crazed madman would want with him. Whatever his circumstances, he hoped someone fed him soon - he was half starved.


	2. Concerning

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_

* * *

"Gaahh!" The young man woke with a start and a gasp. "Bloody hell."

He'd had the weirdest dream - and if it was any indication as to what his life was normally like, then being chained in a bathtub was the least of his troubles.

It had started off with a dark haired boy... they were both young, barely adolescent, and he couldn't cross this one's path without receiving a cutting remark or scathing comment of some kind. They didn't get into fisticuffs, but he could wield his tongue with more brutal efficiency than most could wield a blade. When they were alone, though, just the pair of them, the lad's words softened and sweetened until they were flowing over him like honey... The kisses were brutal and punishing and the groping was bruising, almost desperate, but it fed an emptiness inside him and no matter how cruelly the dark haired boy spoke, he always went back for more.

Then the lad faded and he was older, but not very much, and his dark goddess was before him. Oh, she was the essence of beauty - mystical powers and cruel innocence bound together. She danced and sang around him and he did all he could to keep up. She loved him, and he her, they'd both sworn it a thousand times and she taught him how to do such horrifying things that thinking about them now made his stomach turn, but at the time all he could think of was how marvelous it all was and how clever his queen.

She faded, too, after a time, but the two that replaced her filled his heart with dread. They were only a short, blonde woman and a tall, dark man, but the things that they found pleasure in made his beautiful queen look weaker than a babe's first laugh. They hunted him as if it were sport and, when he could run no more and they caught him, then there was pain and it was intense. He found himself begging, promising, and cursing over and over - swearing on anything he could think of to do anything they would like if only they would stop. He'd just managed to escape the evil pair when he woke up...

The young man's panting had slowed now. He leaned forward and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. It was only a dream, he reminded himself... Just a dream where the pain is very lifelike and real and... "Bugger it," he muttered, shifting. "Even if it is stuff that really happened, doesn't mean that's what life's like now, does it?"

Somewhere else in the building, he heard the metallic sound of a key sliding into a lock.


	3. Of Courage and Fear

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_

* * *

The young man held his breath as several people entered the room outside his bathroom door. They sounded tired and frustrated. There were four of them, if the cussing and moaning was anything to go by, and three of them were about his age, if not a little younger. There was a man with them, too.

He released a breath and inhaled again slowly. He blinked and shook his head. Whoa, but this lot needed showers! They didn't smell bad necessarily... okay, they were more than a bit ripe, but mostly the smell was more strong than offensive. He sniffed again and his stomach grumbled. Smelled like they brought food with them, too.

He chewed on his lower lip and shifted carefully so as not to move the chains. His choices were simple, he told himself, he could sit quietly in the tub and hope that someone just happen to find him - or not as the case may be - or he could quit being a nervous wanker and shout for help. Right, he nodded, easy choice. He took a deep breath, thought for a moment of what he was going to say, opened his mouth, and froze. He growled softly at himself - how big of a ponce was he? What was the worst that could happen? His limited memory flashed back to the dreams that had seemed so real and he shuddered.

Okay, he reasoned, torture's a good argument. But what if this was his only chance for freedom and he passed it up? Right, he closed his eyes and nodded again. On the count of three: One... Two... "Help!" He hollered as loud as he could. "I've been chained up in the bathroom by some psychotic maniac! Help!"

The door burst open before he finished taking his second breath and a tall, dark haired man with glasses was in the room. "Listen to me, you stupid, ungrateful, pain in my arse," his tone was menacing, full of painful promises, and his eyes were hard as steel. "If I hear even one more word from you -"

"Giles?" a girl's voice called. The young man entertained thoughts of hope briefly before his voice died in his throat. "Giles, you're injured, you shouldn't have to deal with him right now. Willow's putting some water on for tea and Xander has the first aid kit out - why don't you let him patch you up? I'll take care of this"

The young man swallowed hard, his eyes widening. Blonde, she was blonde and she was telling the taller, brown haired man what to do. He shook his head, struggling to come up with a way to make this better.

The older man gave him a warning glare, told the blonde not to kill him, although he didn't sound like he'd be too put out if she did, and left.

The young man sputtered and moved to put as much space between himself and the girl as possible. In the dream, the man might've been stronger, more prone to anger, but the girl - she was more cruel, more cold in her calculations. And here she was, watching him with narrowed eyes and reaching out to grab him.

"I - I'm sorry," he choked out, squeezing his eyes closed and pressing himself even harder into the tile at his back. "Please, don't - I won't do it again, not ever again!"

She didn't touch him. He waited a moment or two and then peaked up at her. She was frowning, her eyebrows furrowed together, and her gaze was a little uncertain, as if he'd done something unexpected. Seizing his opportunity, he kept talking.

"It - it was a mistake, and I know that now - don't know what the bloody hell I was thinking. Must've been the night terrors, had 'em before you walked in, and then waking up was a bit disorienting and I certainly know better than to do that, now don't I? Wouldn't have done it in my right mind, no, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll just sit right here in my comfy tub and keep to myself, will I? Sounds like the others might need a little looking after, though, so I certainly won't keep you, now -"

"Spike!" The blonde raised her voice, confusion still etched on her face. "Enough, okay? Just... stay here, be quiet, and be grateful that tonight you don't rate as one of the top ten pains in my backside."

Swallowing hard, the young man nodded rapidly. Had she called him 'Spike'? That couldn't be his name, could it? Better not to argue with her, though.

She gave him another hard, uneasy look, shook her head and left.

The door closed softly behind her and the young man dropped his head into his hands, cussing softly.


	4. Brief Reprieve

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers._  
_Also, don't be too hard on Giles - he'd just gotten back from a not-so-successful fight and Spike does have a way of making himself rather annoying when he wants to._

* * *

The young man released a ragged breath and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Obviously "Spike" was a name the blonde had given him – it certainly wasn't something he'd have chosen for himself, but she hadn't hurt him and that was, by far, the more important of the two battles to have won.

He swore again, wishing desperately that he could remember something, anything, about himself, these people – even this place.

As his breathing calmed and his thoughts slowed, he realized that he could hear them, the horrifying pair and the other two, speaking in the next room.

"No, no – it was a Zelrict demon. See the row of jagged spines along the jaw line?" The man in glasses, the blonde had called him Giles, spoke.

"Ugh, gross – what's it do?" The blonde's voice now.

"Let's see..." Giles again. "It produces a slime that can cause hallucinations in its victims... it can create a pulse of... force, essentially, that it can fling at its victims at will and... ah, here we are. Its hide is incredibly thick, enabling it to shrug off the injuries that would mortally wound so many others, but, upon sustaining an actual injury, the creature usually dies." There was a pause. "They bleed to death."

"You mean like those Russian people? There's a whole race of demons that are hemo... hemo..." This boy's voice held so much more uncertainty than the man's did.

"Hemophiliacs, yes..." The young man shuddered. The arrogance and dismissal in those words was familiar. "None of you happened to get any of its... slime on you, did you?"

There was some murmuring and lots of movement. That Giles fellow was definitely bossy enough, but he didn't doubt that the blond was in charge.

"Uh, no, don't think so, G-man." It was odd, he could almost picture the smile that went with the boy's words. He felt the corners of his lips turn up.

"Actually, Xander, there's some on the back of your shirt... right there, see?" This second girl, not the blonde, her voice struck a chord inside the young man. He closed his eyes at the ache that swelled up, noting that his smile hadn't faded. It was a good kind of ache.

"What? Ah! Get it off me!" The young man bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. "Giles! Giles, what do I do?"

"Take it off – carefully!"

There was the sound of several people moving all at once and then he sensed them calm again.

"Alright, Xander, follow me, I'm sure I can find a suitable replacement for you until you get home. Willow? No, not in the trash, I don't want anyone accidently coming in contact with it. Just put that in the sink for now, we'll figure out what to do with it later. No, no – the bathroom sink."

"And be careful, Wills," the blonde's voice was low. "Spike's acting kind of funny."

"Spike's acting... what do you mean?" The young man frowned at the thread of fear in the other girl's voice.

"Well, I... it was like he was afraid of me."

The sound of her giggling lit up his face. "Afraid of you? You mean, like he's acting all snarky?"

"No," the sound of the blonde's confusion made him nervous. "He... He flinched away from me... started babbling like Xander does when his brain goes on autopilot. And the look in his eyes... it was like he really was afraid of what I was going to do to him."

The two girls shared a moment of awkward silence.

"Well, he did get knocked back pretty hard. He might just be a little loopy."

He could almost hear the blonde nod. "Anyway, he seemed pretty wigged to see me, so I'm gonna wait out here. Just call if you need me?"

"Will do."


	5. Of Lust and Longing

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_

* * *

He could smell the power rolling off her before she took her first step into the small room. She smelled of strawberries and summer rain, and that not-quite-smell that means that lightning is about to strike. His mouth watered and he inhaled again, and then again.

His half lidded eyes snapped open as she came in, and he felt himself flush, as if she'd caught him doing something rather more inappropriate than just breathing.

"Hey, Spike."

He raised his eyes to her and froze for the second time since waking. Her eyes were green, which was a perfectly ordinary color for her eyes to be, but there was so much more to them than that. He saw lingering innocence and a lust for knowledge and power, and, somewhere in their depths, he saw shadows of what darkness she could be capable of. There was pain there, too - no longer crippling, maybe, but still raw. He wondered who or what could've caused that kind of pain.

"Uh, Spike?"

Blinking, he pulled his eyes away from hers, but he couldn't help soaking in the rest of her image. He felt as if he had to burn her into his mind, the way she looked right then. She had short, red hair and pale skin – she dressed modestly, a t-shirt with some sort of trendy slang and long, loose skirt, but there was a tear in one of the folds of her skirt. He frowned, unable to tell if she'd been hurt. What he could see of her was just the way she smelled, utterly delicious. His tongue slid across his lower lip unconsciously as his eyes trailed down her body. She was his dark goddess, she had to be – smelling of this sort of power, looking the way she did, and even his own reaction to her – if the other two were his tormentors, then this was his twisted beauty.

"Spike!"

Startled at her tone, he met her eyes again before looking away. "Sorry, pet. It's just... good to see you," he smiled softly, eyes on his chains.

He sensed the girl relax. "It's good to see you, too, I guess." She set the clothing down on the sink, then turned around to lean against it, crossing her arms over her chest. "We found out what that demon thingy was that attacked you. Good thing you escaped when you did, I guess. Giles thinks that you were its first, uh, victim." She paused, shifting uncomfortably. Several emotions flickered across her face before she continued. "A – are you hurt?"

The young man opened his mouth to speak and, when the boy Xander walked in, he promptly forgot to shut it.

He struggled to find his breath as he looked at the youth in front of him. Dark, unruly hair and soft, chocolate colored eyes regarded him coldly in return. He was wearing denims that had seen better days and was finishing buttoning up a flannel shirt that looked better on him than anything of this world had a right to. The sleeves had already been rolled up, revealing toned arms, and the sight of his rapidly disappearing abdomen was enough to make the young man forget how to breathe.

"What's the matter, _Spike,_" the boy practically spat at him. "Speechless for once? You know, if this is permanent I'm going to have to ask Buffy to spare the demon's life. It's done a service for creatures with ears everywhere."

He blinked, thoughts gone numb. His dark haired boy. He had found not only his tainted queen but also his Adonis? The terrible pair was here, as well, just outside the door. It was all becoming too much for him to bear. He sent a beseeching look to his red haired beauty and she took pity on him.

"Come on, Xan, be nice."

"Nice?" The boy turned his heated eyes to her and the young man was able to breathe again. "Are you forgetting who this is? This is Spike, William the Bloody, one of the Scourges of Europe – Willow, he's a bad, bad... thing, and just because he's fangless at the moment doesn't mean he wouldn't be more than happy to go around kicking puppies again if we gave him any slack!"

"Xander!" the girl reproached, offering a brief, but apologetic glance his way. The young man didn't mind, he still wasn't able to think coherently. He was sure they were speaking English, but nothing they were saying was making any sense at the moment. "Buffy said he was acting odd and I think he is, too. He might be hurt – he was out for a long time and that thing did send him through a brick wall-"

"Well... whatever. Just don't go letting him convince you he's reformed just because he's all puppy eyes and chipped head." The boy looked at him like he was filth found on the bottom of a good pair of shoes before stomping back out to the common room. The young man dropped his eyes quickly, unable to suppress a shudder.

The young man swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and shivered again. "Everyone's accounted for, then," he whispered.

"Yes," the girl murmured. "We are."

She moved as if to leave and his stomach gurgled, outraged at being ignored. He felt his face flush again, and tried to slink further into his tub, mortified that this should happen in front of her. She only tilted her head to one side, a thoughtful look in her green eyes. "Are you hungry?"

Lost in her eyes, he nodded. "If it's not too much trouble?"

She blessed him with a kind smile. "Of course not, I'll be right back."

The young man felt his stomach flip as he watched her leave.


	6. Nutrition

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_  
_Also, keep in mind that the story is only from Spike's POV, and that, at the moment, he's still assuming he's alive. He may describe emotions or sensations in ways that would no longer apply to a vampire._

* * *

The young man chewed his lower lip, looked down at his drink, and then back up at Willow. It wasn't that it didn't smell utterly delicious, and he didn't want to seem ungrateful, but... "It looks like…" blood.

The red-head nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. "It's your favorite."

He couldn't help but snort. She was acting entirely too shifty for him to buy that.

"Okay," she revised. "It's not your favorite, but it's what we have, so it'll have to do." He smiled a little – he liked how she tilted her chin up just so when she was being all stubborn like this. She smiled briefly back. "Look – it's not all that bad. It's... Oh! It's like a protein shake! You know, all the vitamins and nutrition of a regular meal, just in liquid form… and with a funny after taste…"

He raised an eye brow at his dark beauty and looked down at the drink in his hands. Like a protein shake meant it wasn't one. So what was it? The fact that she was being so evasive meant it was probably something rather gross, possibly even dangerous. Was it poison? Or a sedative? And why weren't they just giving him normal food? Was he sick? Certainly she wouldn't give him anything that could truly hurt him, she loved him... right? He shook his head. Lovers or no, she was kind enough – he'd been able to tell that much. He imagined the terrible pair might could've bullied her into slipping him something nasty... or, if he had pissed her off lately, maybe she'd do it of her own free will... He had a vague notion that her sense of justice and retribution wasn't within the normal realm of such things.

He frowned and looked up. "You're not angry with me, are you?"

The girl blinked. "What? No... I'm not mad. Why would you think that?"

The young man nodded. "Right, just checking." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and brought the cup to his lips.

The first sip had him snapping his eyes open. The next gulp had them closed again and with the third swallow he was groaning before he could stop himself. This stuff was good – it was wonderful – ambrosia, almost. It did taste a little... off. It had a pork or ham or... some sort of pig-related-food undercurrent to it. But still – it was absolutely divine.

Willow's giggling brought him back to reality... well, that and he'd polished off the cuppa. He sighed and licked his lips, looking at his empty mug.

"Um, Spike?"

He met her green eyes and lost himself for a moment. "Hmm?"

"You have a, um... a, uh," she gestured to her mouth. "You have a mustache."

"What?" He ran a thumb over his upper lip and was surprised to see it was red. "Oh! Um... thanks." He flushed and cleaned himself up as best he could. "Better now?"

She smiled and nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else, when Giles called her from the living room.

"Willow? Would you come here for a moment, please?"

"Sure, just a second." She called back, reaching for his cup absently.

His heart was in his throat. What did that monster want with her? He handed her the cup and then covered her hand with his. It was an awkward move, as the chains were rather cumbersome, but it was worth it when her attention returned to him.

"Uh, look, pet." Damn it. He'd have given anything to be better with words just then. "Be careful, yeah? Those two out there... just watch yourself with them, right? I know they..." He halted again. Why was this so difficult? He shook his head. "If anything should happen or if you need someone to help, you come to me and I won't let anything happen to you." His eyes fell to his chains and he flushed again. "Don't know how, but I'll make sure you're safe. Okay?"

The girl tilted her head to one side and looked not a little confused, but she seemed to realize how serious he was. "Okay. If I need help, I'll let you know. Thank you."

Embarrassed but reassured, he nodded and released her hand. "Better get going before he gets cross, then."

He waited until she was gone and the door was shut before he thumped his head on the tile wall behind him. Idiot.


	7. Thoughts

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_  
_Also, keep in mind that though she has suspicions that something isn't right with our bleach blond vamp, Willow doesn't know that Spike thinks he's alive. So when she mentioned that his meal was "like a protein shake," she was comparing the pig's blood to it, as opposed to human blood (his favorite) which would she would've compared to a full meal or comfort food. Spike merely thinks it's a protein shake with something gross or unappitizing possibly added to it._

* * *

The young man groaned in disgust with himself and thumped his head twice more for good measure. He knew his Red probably thought he was an absolute ponce right now, trying to be all protective of her when he couldn't even properly protect himself, but he... It was just that he knew how dangerous those two were – well, he didn't _know,_ but he did. It was difficult to explain. The blonde and the man _were_ dangerous, he knew it on some primal level – and every time he thought of what they might do to her, what they were capable of when angered – hell, what they were capable of when bored! Every time he thought of it, his throat closed up and his chest felt tight and he had this awful, awful sensation – like something was trapped in his chest and desperate to claw its way out. He couldn't stand to think of them hurting her – not even in jest!

He had a vague notion that he was working himself up and that he really should just calm down, but he was so confused and frustrated and helpless that he just didn't give a fuck right that moment.

He jerked sharply on his chains several times, feeling almost frenzied, before he forced himself to breathe. Him being anxious wouldn't help anyone, not himself, not his lady,... and not the boy. He shook his head at himself. He'd forgotten about Xander – only for a moment, but for long enough. It didn't matter that he had Red for his affections, now – he had to keep looking after the boy, too. He couldn't just ignore their history... he couldn't abandon him. In any event, he had a feeling neither of them knew how deep in it they really were. He needed to stay sharp so that he could keep from attracting any undue attention, at least until he had a better handle on what was happening. That was how he could be useful – the chains didn't matter.

He focused on the voices outside his door. It sounded like all four of them were talking, but he couldn't make out what they were saying... The boy sounded upset, though. He was the loudest – kept going on about something being a trick. The others sounded concerned, but kept their conversation low. He closed his eyes and frowned, wondering what they were talking about.

They hadn't sussed out his memory loss yet, had they? He knew he was playing a dangerous game by holding the information back from them, and he thought his beauty might be able to help him, but he was sure she'd tell the other two as soon as she knew and they'd only use the information to hurt him. Still, it wouldn't be long till they figured it out on their own, would it? Red had asked if he'd been injured when he didn't have a visible mark on his person, and the blonde... he'd thrown her off guard apologizing and prattling on the way he had. He chewed his lip trying to think of what else he could've done, but he honestly couldn't think of anything else that would've kept him from being punished any further.

And that had to be what the chains were about – a punishment of some sort, he was sure of it. But what had he done to end up here? What could he do to get free? He pushed and strained at his mind, hoping that maybe if he concentrated hard enough he'd find an answer, but there was nothing to struggle against, nothing to find. He growled and thumped his fist sharply against his thigh.

He sighed in frustration and shifted in the tub, trying to find a more comfortable position. That "protein shake" had done him a world of good, despite his earlier raging – he felt warmer now, more content... more sluggish. Maybe it was drugged.

He shrugged and turned his face away. It wasn't as if there was much he could do about it at the moment anyway. Not that there wasn't a part of him that wanted to scream and struggle and fight to the last breath – that little piece of panic was still present, just... muted. He was scared, but tired, too. This whole event was exhausting. All he really wanted to do was just curl up somewhere soft and comfortable with his girl and sleep for a hundred years.

He paused. She was speaking again, his dark goddess... A smile tugged at his lips as he listened to the rhythms of her voice. It didn't matter what she was talking about, the cadence was familiar and soothing. He closed his eyes and relaxed a little more.


	8. Night terrors

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_

* * *

"N – no! Stop it! I'll do it, just -"

The young man looked around the cold, bare room and shuddered. He had been crying and his hands were shaking, wouldn't stop shaking. Where was he? It was so cold and dark. Was he in prison? Was it winter? He was sure he hadn't ever been this cold before.

Bathroom – he was still in the bathroom, still chained up. It was dark out, but some faint light was filtering through the window – just enough to see by. He patted himself down frantically, but there was no pain, no blood, no new injuries. Only a night terror, then.

He took a deep, ragged breath and paused. He could hear heavy steps upstairs... on the steps, now. Sod it all! He had woke someone up – he was going to get it now, wasn't he? Fuck!

He struggled to maneuver into a more defensible position. Having his back to the faucet wasn't comfortable, but it gave him a lot more slack on the chains and he'd have a much clearer view of the door. His hands were still trembling, but he couldn't help that – he'd just have to keep them stuffed in his pockets or something. Oh! His face – it wouldn't do to look like he'd been sobbing. With footsteps approaching the door, he scrubbed at his face with the heels of his palms tucking them into his lap again.

The door opened moments later and the tall man with glasses came in. He looked half dressed, disheveled, and was squinting in the glaring lights he had just turned on.

The young man avoided eye contact, but raised his arms up so that they were resting on his knees, his hands balled up into loose fists. The older man would move to grab his throat, would growl and threaten and, perhaps, laugh. He couldn't explain where this knowledge was coming from, but he was grateful for it. It was a relief to have an idea of what to expect. He waited warily for what felt like ages while the other man watched him.

Spike," Giles's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Do you know who I am?"

The young man glanced up, confused. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Was it a trap? He chose his words carefully. "Yeah, you're Giles – you're with Goldilocks."

The other man nodded after a moment, leaning against the wall opposite him. "Yes, I am. Who am I to you, though?"

This was a trap, it had to be. The questions Giles was asking didn't feel natural – they felt awkward. Did they know, then? Or did they only suspect? Either way, there was no way he could answer this without either pissing off his captor or revealing his lack of memory. The young man shifted, his mind racing. Probably better to piss him off than to show weakness... that seemed to be what the blonde expected earlier, anyway.

He warped his mouth into a sneer. "Sure, you're the bloody messiah, aren't you?"

Giles pressed his lips together and looked into the mirror. The young man braced himself for the first blow, but the other man only sighed, as if the fate of the world really did rest with him.

"Do you know who you are?"

He blinked, trying to remember what the dark, haired boy had called him. "Course I do – I'm Spike, William the Bloody, Scourge of Europe, aren't I? Who else would I be?"

The man in glasses looked at the floor, deep in thought. The young man fought not to fidget.

"And how did you come to be called Spike?"

The young man inhaled sharply. Shit. Shit. More attitude – God watch him, but he was going to throw more attitude at this sadistic fuck. But what sort of bull shit could he come up with about... wait.

"Cus of all them stilettos I fancy." He nodded solemnly, half hoping that if he made the brute laugh, he might get out of his beating.

Giles frowned and gave him an odd look, removing his glasses to polish them with his nightshirt. The action was vaguely familiar, causing some thought to nag quietly at the back of the young man's mind, but he pushed it away – struggling to keep his full attention on the task at hand.

"Does the name Angel bring anything to mind?"

He let his eyes wander over the bathroom, trying to recall any significance the word might have. "All that comes mind is 'peaches' and 'poofter'."

A smile quirked at the corners of the other man's lips, quickly stifled. "What about Angelus?"

The older man was watching him especially carefully now, and he struggled to keep his face blank, but he couldn't help it. Some frozen terror had crawled up his back and he could feel all the blood drain from his face. At the same time he felt a deep ache stirring, like a longing that had never gone completely away. Between the two emotions his throat felt suddenly thick. He was, however, able to manage a very soft, "No, nothing."

Giles gave his a critical look, as if he knew this was a lie, but didn't continue. The young man dropped his eyes, unable to endure the harsh scrutiny. He had counted to one hundred forty seven when his captor spoke again.

"It's currently three forty in the morning. I suggest you get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be another painfully long day."

The young man swallowed hard and nodded. He waited until he heard the other man stomp upstairs before he allowed himself the freedom to shake and sob once more.

What did they want with him? Why did they keep playing these stupid, sodding games if they already knew he'd lost his memories? Why did he have to stay in the loo? Didn't they have a real prison? And why, for the love of all that was holy, was he so scared of Giles and the blonde? He bit his lip to keep from screaming and slumped low in the tub. It wasn't fair! Everything was happening so fast and he couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. He felt so exhausted and all of this was only after the first day! He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to continue like this. Maybe being tortured wouldn't be so bad compared to waiting for them to find out. Hell, maybe they wouldn't torture him at all.

All he wanted, he thought feverently, was something to recognize. Just one person or thing that he could point to and say 'I know how that works – I know who that is.' Just one thing to show that he belonged here, with these people. To show that he wasn't going crazy.

He shook his head. It was all too much - even thinking was too much. He closed his eyes, curled up as much as he was able to and prayed that his next sleep would be dreamless.


	9. Eavesdropping

_Disclaimer: __See first chapter._

_

* * *

_The young man had been awake since dawn. He'd known that he should try to get some more sleep, but the visions that came to him when he closed his eyes were horrible – too terrible to let him rest. He'd sleep later, he promised himself – he didn't feel particularly tired just then, anyway.

He listened as Giles woke again, moved back and forth upstairs and came down to putter around the kitchen. In an odd sort of way, he found the sounds of the other fellow's tinkering to be comforting. His stomach growled as he smelled a 'protein shake' being heated, but he remained still. He must not have angered the older man too much, then, right? There hadn't been a beating and no one else seemed to be drinking the weird concoction yesterday, so surely the meal was for him? He tried not to dwell on what other possible significance this might have and kept his gaze lowered when the older man came in with his meal, nodding his thanks as he took the cup. Giles simply nodded back and left.

The shake was different today – there was a lovely texture to it that wasn't there yesterday. He wondered what had been added and what he'd done to deserve the treat, but tried not to fuss over the matter too much. Good fortune was good fortune. He sipped his drink slowly, determined to enjoy it as long as possible.

There was a clock elsewhere in the building that struck ten o'clock shortly before the group gathered again. There was another girl with the group today – about the same age as the others from the sound of it – but there was a silence and awkwardness to all of them that was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He shifted in his tub, nervous. Giles had already retrieved the empty cup and the young man found himself wishing he had the mug back, if just for something to keep his hands occupied.

"Well, were you able to reach him?" Giles was moving something back and forth across the room. His tone was annoyed, almost sharp.

"Uh, yeah – yeah," the blonde spoke. She sounded especially distracted. "He couldn't come last night, but he said he'll try to make it out tonight."

"And you informed him of the situation?"

"Well, yeah, of course... He didn't seem to believe that Spike was really injured, though -"

"See? Even Angel thinks it's all just an act. Spike's just found a new way to mess with our heads." The venom in the boy's voice brought heat to the young man's face. He wondered if this Angel had anything to do with what Giles was questioning him about last night.

"Xander! This is serious! We know that the slime that Zelrict demon makes gives people hallucinations, but we have no idea of what sort of effect it could have on Spike."

The smile that came to his lips at hearing Red come to his defense faded. What did she mean, they didn't know what sort of effect it could have on him? He was a person, too, wasn't he? What had he done that Willow didn't think of him as a person? Was he sick? Was something wrong with him? Had he done something to her? Cold horror washed over him. Had he hurt her? Maybe that was why she let him stay there, chained up in the loo. His stomach threatened to heave and he quickly pushed the thought away.

Xander started to defend himself when the new girl spoke.

"No, the witch is right. Many demons put out a variety of toxins and the effects they can have vary with the species they've infected."

Infected? So, he was sick. Was this a kind of quarantine, then? He ignored the bit about demons and tried to think if he'd had anything on him when he woke up the first time, but he didn't remember being sticky or damp. Wouldn't the slime they were talking about leave him sticky or damp?

The young man glanced to the sink and saw that Xander's shirt from yesterday was still there before another thought occurred to him. Red was a witch? He smiled faintly. That, at least, made some sense. He sat up, trying to reposition himself so that he could hear better.

"Anyway," the blonde continued. "He said something about Spike healing faster than you'd expect – but he promised to help us look into it."

Giles spoke after a pause. "That will have to do. We'll see what we can find in the meantime. Willow? If you could speak to him about what he remembers of the event?" His voice became hushed. "I think you'd be the best for getting anything coherent out of him. He seems to be genuinely terrified of both Buffy and myself, and he's not reacting normally to Xander, either."

The boy seemed to find this his cue to mutter something the young man couldn't make out. The new girl responded.

"No, it sounds like he has a crush on you."

The young man stared at the door in horror. She didn't know, did she? She couldn't! Wait,... _did_ the others know about their relationship? He struggled to figure out if the relationship he'd had with the boy had been trusted to anyone... He didn't think so. Oh, this wasn't good. The boy seemed upset, too. Was this something that could get both of them in trouble?

"What? No! Just – no! Spike is a guy! I'm a guy! Where's the crush? I don't see the crush!"

"Well," the new girl responded. "From what you said, he cringed away and babbled incoherently at Buffy and Giles, much like you're doing right now, but when you were in the room he just gaped at you."

"No! No!" There was an edge of panic to the Xander's voice now. The young man pressed his heels into his eyes. The boy was just making it worse – the others were going to suspect something. "We can't be sure of that – Willow was in the room, too. We all agree that he's not afraid of her – he just wasn't able to express his fear of me in front of her!"

The young man looked up, head tilted. Well, now. If he kept that up the others might suggest the boy come in here on his own.

Was that his plan? He felt his cheeks heat. Was the boy trying to get some time alone with him? Oh, but no! He shook his head even as his breathing quickened. He was with Red, now, wasn't he? There was no way he would hurt his dark goddess like that. Not even for the honeyed kisses that made stinging words more than worth the pain... or those gentle touches that made him feel like he'd explode even before they went anywhere less than innocent... He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. No, not even for that.

"That is something we'll have to explore another time," Giles managed to sound amused and annoyed at the same time. "I'd like to avoid agitating him until we know precisely what we're dealing with."

The young man slumped, torn between relief and disappointment. He wondered if the older man knew about his and Xander's tryst and decided that it was likely. Giles seemed to know everything.

"Willow? As for the rest of you, shall we begin?"

There was some groaning, but no one complained too loudly, and he heard Willow's footsteps as she approached the door.


	10. Breakthrough

_Note:See first chapter for disclaimers._

_

* * *

_The young man kept his eyes on his nails when Willow entered. At first he was just looking for an excuse not to look at her, but then he realized that his nails were painted black. How he hadn't noticed before, he couldn't say. The paint was starting to chip, though – needed touching up.

"Hey, Spike!"

He glanced up at her and quickly dropped his gaze back to his nails. She couldn't read his thoughts, could she? Because if she wasn't upset with him before, he was fairly certain that she'd be upset with where his thoughts were just moments ago. Maybe he could pass it off as a side effect of the demon slime.

"Um, Spike?"

He winced. There was hesitation in her voice. He was thinking too much and speaking too little. It wasn't as if he needed to hide anything from her, yeah? She loved him, right?

"Spike? Is, uh, is something wrong?" Now there was concern. Damn.

"Something wrong? Of course not, love," he looked up and offered her a charming smile. Or as much of a charming smile as he could at the moment.

She didn't look like she was going to buy it, though. She was fiddling with her hands and her eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly. She was entirely too clever for her own good. "Are you sure?"

Was he sure? How was he supposed to answer that? _Well, waking up with amnesia shook me up a touch, but I was really doing okay until you and your mates started talking about me like I was some sort of freak._ That would go over well.

"Yeah, just..." If she had telepathy, then she'd already know that he'd lost his memories, right? So he was safe on that account. Maybe, if he got her talking about the right things, he could get her to fill in some of the blanks without her knowing. He hated to deceive her like that, but he had to stay ahead of the other two. "It's just that I'm starting to get a little stir crazy, pet. Been looking at these four walls just a little bit too long, yeah?" He paused, watching her carefully. "Any idea when the warden will let me out?"

She frowned and blinked. It made her look all sorts of cute, but he didn't think it was a good reaction.

"Just for a few moments," he rushed to say before she could speak. "You know, give me a chance to stretch my legs, get the blood flowing. I'm trying to mind my Ps and Qs, I swear that I am, but it's all a man of mere flesh and blood can do not to raise the dead for a little fresh air. And what harm could it do? A touch of sunshine, a quick change of scenery, and then I'm back in the loo all secured nice and proper again, aren't I?"

"A touch of sunshine..." She tilted her head to the left as if he were a puzzle she had to see from just the right angle to solve. The young man held his breath. Had he said too much? Best not to say anything else for now.

"...Flesh and blood..." Ah. Now that was a look he recognized. Whatever it was that troubled her, he knew by the look in her eyes that she'd have it figured out in a moment. Maybe he was starting to get his memories back.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, right! Flesh and blood! Of course! Yes – I mean, right!"

Although the sight of her face lighting up like a Christmas tree did turn his heart into so much putty, not knowing what the source was making him nervous.

"What's this now?" he kept his voice calm and amused.

Willow blinked and flushed. "Well,... I – I just realized something. That I need to tell Giles. ...Right now!"

The young man felt a chill go down his back and shifted. Oh, this was definitely not good. "I thought the old git wanted you in here talking to me, pet."

"Spike!" Even scolding him, her green eyes were lit up with excitement. Whatever she'd figured out, it pleased her greatly.

He chewed his bottom lip. He really did like that look on her face. The air of accomplishment she was wearing had chased away the vague sense of hurt that seemed to be ever present in the air around her. He knew he'd have to make a point of bringing out that expression more once everything went back to normal... whatever normal was. He had a feeling she didn't smile like that nearly enough.

But Willow was speaking again. "Really, though, Spike – I need to talk to Giles about this right away." She hesitated, looking away for a moment. "I – I think I've figured out a way to get him to let you out of here."

Shit. She was lying – or, if she wasn't lying, then she wasn't telling a whole truth. He felt his heart lodge in his throat. His dark goddess was lying to him. But just because she was lying, it didn't mean she was up to something cruel or hateful, did it? Because he was lying to her, wasn't he? In a way? Maybe she was trying to protect him from something.

He swallowed and nodded, trying not to let her see his sudden surge of fear. "Of course, pet. I'll just wait right here for you, shall I?"

Willow started moving toward the door and he closed his eyes, his thoughts racing. Fuck if he shouldn't have just kept his gob shut. What had he let slip? What gave him away? More importantly, how were Goldilocks and the old man going to react?

"Spike?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at her again. God, but she was beautiful. Her hair was shining in the light coming in from the window and her eyes were sparkling with hidden delight. She was relaxed now, too, and seemed to be almost vibrating with energy.

He was lucky to have her, more so than any mortal deserved. How was it that he'd gone this whole visit without getting lost in her eyes or hypnotized by her voice? And what kind of a dog was he that he could do something as trivial as pine for an old lover and then worry about getting caught when she was making the effort to spend time with him?

He swallowed hard. He didn't deserve her. "Yeah?"

"Everything will be okay." She spoke and it was like she had all the answers to every question that plagued him, and then she smiled at him like he was the best thing in the world.

The young man nodded. "Right, love – everything's gonna be just dandy."

And God help him, but he believed it.


	11. Recipes and Waiting

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers  
Also - chapters will be posted a bit more slowly now - I'm pretty much caught up with where the story was before and although I know what's going to happen in the next couple of chapters, getting it down on paper may pose a bit of a challenge. Still, you should expect another chapter either later today or at some point tomorrow. Thankyou to everyone who's following the story and a special thankyou to hulettwyo, who's cheering provides my ego with a constant supply of warm fuzzies._

* * *

The day stretched on in a lazy fashion. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. The young man dozed and watched as the sunlight traveled across the walls of the loo. He listened to the cryptic and confusing conversations the others shared and, on occasion, he shared soft words with his Red.

"We're waiting for a fellow to show up, aren't we?" He looked down at the red liquid in his cup. He turned it this way and that, wondering what his 'protein shake' consisted of. Tomatoes, of course, but what else?

Willow was quiet for a bit before answering. "Yes, actually. How did you know?"

"Giles asked Goldilocks if she'd gotten ahold of someone when she came round this morning. She said that she had, and that he'd be by tonight." Maybe eggs? That might explain why it seemed to congeal if he left it alone for too long. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of drinking raw eggs, but acknowledged that it wouldn't keep him from drinking his treat. "Also, whenever you're not talking about that cursed demon or whispering about me, you're trying to figure out when 'he's' gonna get here and how Buffy will react to him." He paused and looked up, meeting her eyes. "How I'll react to him." She looked surprised and there was a slight tension around her eyes that might've been guilt. "Who's coming? Anyone I know?" He tried to make the question sound casual and curious, but her nervousness was feeding his.

She moved to smooth her auburn hair back. "Um, yeah, you know him. Rather well, in fact."

The young man raised an eyebrow. A guessing game? He allowed a wry smile to grace his lips. "An old friend, then?"

Willow squirmed again, searching his face for clues he hoped he wasn't providing. "I guess you could say that," her tone was carefully neutral and she dropped her eyes as she spoke.

Interesting. Someone he might not be pleased to see. Possibly a friend that had become an enemy? It might narrow the list if he'd had a list to start off with.

"Doesn't this 'old friend' have a name?" He raised both his eyebrows as he spoke and balanced his voice carefully between stern and playful. This was a delicate game he was playing. She was his only source of information and by far the best company of what was available. He didn't want to push her away.

His girl nodded and his mouth watered as a faint blush crept across her face. Damn, but he would've given anything to remember what she tasted like. "Uh. It's, um, Angel."

His mind replayed the conversation he'd had with Giles' the night before and decided that it was okay to follow his first instinct regarding the name. Keeping her eyes locked on his, he allowed a grin to slowly spread across his face before chuckling. "Angel?"

The girl relaxed a little, giving him the start of a reluctant smile and a bit of a nod.

He let out a bark of laughter, more of relief than anything else. Just like the night before, the name Angel only conjured feelings of disappointment and vague disgust. "That's just fine - you bring that fob in for a visit, then. Hell, the more, the merrier, right?"

This was, evidently, the right thing to say. Her green eyes lit up, even as she scolded him gently for speaking badly of this Angel person, and he reveled in the knowledge that he was to one they lit for.

They fell back into easy banter for another few minutes before she was called away again.

"Love?"

She turned, her hand on the door knob, an easy smile on her lips. Lips he'd love to lick and kiss and...

He dragged his eyes up to hers and shifted. "When will he get here, you think?"

She chewed on her lower lip while he watched, transfixed. "Probably not too long after sunset - about eight or nine? Just a few more hours. He has some work in L.A. he needs to finish up, then it's a bit of a drive to get here. He said he'd call when he's on his way, though."

The young man nodded absently. "Thanks. Just curious." He handed his empty mug back to her and listened, after she left, as she moved to the kitchen to rinse it out before rejoining the others.

His eyes started drifting closed again. He could fight the feelings of sleepy contentment, but there wasn't much else for him to do right now anyway, especially now, knowing that this Angel guy wasn't a threat. He shifted to find a more comfortable position in the tub and wondered if he could talk Red into sneaking a blanket or two in here for him. He didn't mind the cold so much, but a bathtub was a hell of a place to try to get comfortable in. He cushioned his head with his hands and decided that his current position would have to do for now.

His thoughts were starting to fade away, when he sat forward with a start. Spinach! That's where the iron-y taste came from! He shared a smug grin with the empty loo, quite pleased with himself. Tomatoes, eggs and spinach, he nodded to himself as he curled back up again, he'd work on the rest of the recipe later.


	12. Horror

_Note: See first chapter for disclaimers_

_Also… yeah, "a bit more slowly" seems to have been ages longer than I ever intended it to be. I won't offer up any excuses, other than the fact that the real world is sometimes more distracting than I care to admit. I am not done with this story, and I will continue to work on it, but I don't know how long it will be before the next post. Thank you for your patience and for reading my quaint, little story! Feel free to leave a review if you're moved to do so! … Oh, and I may have been buzzed when I tidied up this chapter for presentation, so I apologize for any extra typos or spelling errors present._

* * *

The young man woke up gasping to a smell that had his stomach in knots.

The smell itself wasn't necessarily bad or good, and, if pressed, he wasn't sure he'd actually be able to describe it to someone else. It was more the onslaught of half tangible memories the smell brought with it that set him on edge – the brief sound of crazed laughter and desperate screams, visions of blood splattered against the wall and the dismembered parts of what were once people scattered about, the sensation of teeth breaking his skin and a belt landing on raw wounds, and the smell of blood – old blood, permeated with fear. Whatever this strange smell was, the thing causing it was bad news.

The young man inhaled again, trying to stir more memories, and, for the space of several seconds, he was frozen with a terror so familiar he felt homesick. Then his eyes widened. The smell was getting closer.

His voice caught in his throat momentarily, causing him to choke and sputter before it fought its way free. "Red? Red! Uh, um, Willow! X - Xander! Someone!"

Goldilocks was first in the door, her eyes sweeping the loo for threats while she pulled a jagged piece of wood from behind her. Red arrived just after, dropping to her knees by the side of the tub. He wanted to smile at how she reached out to him, but the fear that clutched at his insides twisted it into more of a grimace. Giles and the boy arrived last, hanging in the door way.

"Spike, what is it? What's going on?" Red took his hands in hers. Her touch was so warm.

He wanted to kiss her, just to assure her that he was okay. He couldn't, though, there wasn't enough time. Acting on instinct, his eyes scanned each of the four he could see and he sniffed the air cautiously, trying to ignore the approaching smell as best he could. Still only five in the house besides himself, the four he was familiar with in the room with him and the new girl in the other room – not too far outside the door of his loo, actually – and no one injured or scared, which meant they must not know it was coming.

His first priority was to make sure Red and the Boy got to safety. He briefly considered grouping the unknown girl in with them, but quickly dismissed the idea - he didn't know who she was or what she was capable of. Best to keep her with him and give his two a better chance at escape - which meant he needed to convince the two in charge of the danger that was coming.

He looked up into Red's beautiful green eyes for the longest of moments before turning to speak to Giles and the blonde. "You have to get them out of here – Willow and Xander – you have to get them somewhere safe. There's something... something bad coming, something horrible."

"What are you talking about, Spike?" The blonde seemed impatient, but he could smell the first traces of fear coming off of her and his two – Giles only tensed. He realized, in a distant corner of his mind, that if he pissed her off with this bit of news, he might be looking at a very miserable existence for the next few… however long it took her to get board of his screaming. He swallowed and hoped that she'd hold off using him as a chew toy long enough for him to get his message across.

Giles stepped further into the already cramped room, interrupting his thoughts. The older man had a curious look in his eyes. "Spike? What's going on?"

The young man shook his head, trying to sort through his words. "There's something… something… awful, something abominable on its way here. It's bad," he pleaded with the older man to believe him. "So horrible it makes you ill to even think about it. Evil and cruelty in its most basic form, is what it is. I don't know why it's coming here, but we need to get Red and the boy out of here as fast as we can – we don't have much time."

The brute and the blonde exchanged a knowing glance, while his girl and the boy exchanged a similar look.

The moment stretched on for ages and the young man could've cried aloud with frustration while the lot of them stood there trading meaningful eye contact back and forth. "Look, we need to get everyone who can't fight out of here before _it_ gets here or they won't stand a chance. It's on its way, it's getting closer, and they'll be so much… so much dog food if they're not half way to Peru by the time it gets here! They need to leave – _now_!" He looked from one to the other and licked his lips. There wasn't time for this. "Sodding… Let me free and I'll distract the bloody bastard myself."

Buffy blinked at him, like he was speaking another language suddenly, but he ignored her and focused on Giles again. Giles had been showing a bit of kindness to him, today, maybe he would take him seriously.

"Please, Giles, _sir_," he hated that he was begging, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. "_Please_. I won't run, I won't hurt anyone, I'll do exactly as I'm told and I'll hold it back to my last breath, but please – don't let it get its claws on them." He poured all the fear, sincerity and desperation that he felt into his words.

Giles' eyes flickered and an emotion moved over his face too quickly for the young man to interpret it, but, before either could find their voice again, Goldilocks was speaking once more.

"You're really going to have to cut the mysterious mumbo-jumbo crap if you want us to take you seriously, Spike." Her mouth was warped into a snarl and her tone was snide, but the panic was rolling off her in waves, now. "I mean, that could describe at least a dozen of the baddies we've encountered in the last week alone! Can't you tell us something more specific? Is it a demon or a vampire or some sort of ghost, or what?"

"Oh! Or what about what it looks like? Like how about how many legs does it have or what color is it?" Willow startled him as she chimed in, he'd been so focused on the two in charge. She looked so eager and anxious to help - it was if she thought all she had to do was word the question just right and he'd tell her all the answers.

He looked into her eyes for the space of a heartbeat or two before he unwillingly pictured what the approaching monster would do to her pretty face – her sparkling eyes and bright smile. Immediately, he felt his stomach clench and his eyes water and he dropped his gaze. He was such a useless fucking prat, paralyzed with fear and crippled with amnesia while some sort of abomination, that was chomping at the bit to destroy everything good with its reach, came closer and closer every moment.

"Please," he choked the words out, forcing himself to talk past the boulder sized lump in his throat and tearing his gaze from Red's. "Get them out of here – make them leave. I…" He tried to swallow, but there was no moisture in his mouth to swallow with. "I'll do anything you ask of me from here on out – I won't fight, I won't sass, I won't… I won't resist... I…." He felt a part of himself die with what he was promising these two, but he would do anything to keep from hearing his dark goddess scream like she had in his dreams last night. "I'll sell you the deed to my bloody soul! Just please, please, don't let them be here when he shows up."

Giles took off his glasses and polished them furiously with the hem of his shirt. His lips were pressed firmly together and he had that odd look in his eyes again. He motioned two people he cared most about to leave the small room, closed the door behind them, and crouched before the tub and its occupant.

"We believe you, Spike, but we need to know what we're coming up against. Xander and Willow have their weaknesses, but they're no strangers to fighting the forces of evil and they've both developed skills that Buffy and I have come to rely on in emergencies." The older man's voice was firm and low, projecting a sense of control that the young man desperately wanted to believe his captor had. "We need more information. What else do you know?"

"NOTHING!" The words burst out of him before he was ready, startling the two remaining in the room. His face was suddenly wet and his hands were shaking again, but he didn't care. He voiced an inarticulate cry of rage and gave a single, vicious yank at his chains before panting and forcing himself to swallow his frustration so that he could speak. "I know _nothing_, okay? I don't know _who_ the hell you lot are, I don't know _where_ I am, I don't know _what_ I'm doing chained to a sodding bathtub, and I can't remember _anything_ before bloody yesterday when I first woke up! So, no, Giles – no, Goldilocks – I can't tell you anything else about this bastard other than that the very idea of him makes me want to crawl under the damned tub and beg for a quick death!"

In the silence that followed his tirade, he could've sworn that the sound of his own panting was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.


End file.
